


An Account Of Work: Unfinished

by orphan_account



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell - Clarke
Genre: Comedy of Errors, Footnotes, Gen, Humor, voice fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-22
Updated: 2009-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-05 00:43:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr Childermas tries to get some work done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Account Of Work: Unfinished

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sinope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinope/gifts).



> A big thank you to AR and Lise, for playing beta, and you weary masochists, for reading.

Thus far, in his attempts to assuage everyone, Mr Honeyfoot had made matters far more difficult than they had any right to be between the Norrellite and Strangite factions. This, much like everything since the disappearance of John Childermass' former master and John Childermass' former master's former protege, had become rather grossly complicated.

"I am sure you know he means no one any ill-will by it." Mr Segundus felt it his duty to explain, or so it seemed to Childermass, for the man made excuses for Honeyfoot too often for there to be any other feasible excuse in King's Country1. "He only wants everyone to get on well, without quarrel, and does not see at all why there should be such bickering."

"I can see that for myself, Mr Segundus, but it fails to change the fact that it is unnecessarily counterproductive." Childermass stood from his desk, where he had been studying more notes, written out by a Norrellite, and wondering at how they did not at all look like the transcriptions written out by a Strangite, and how together, none of them looked like the notes Childermass had written. Childermass found himself very sorely missing the days before they had moved to translating Vinculus' back, and so the vagabond-looking fellow could vertify for himself if the various transcriptions were at all accurate-- if he was not in one of his stupors at the time, or debauching the housemaid, or missing entirely. Those _had_ been the better of Childermass' more recent days.

Mr Segundus took off his hat and held it under his arm, looking very sorrowful, or perhaps anxious-- Mr Childermass could not tell, largely because Mr Childermass did not care. He was, and had been, more concerned with his work, and getting it done, and perhaps this sorry situation could be used to his advantage, if not rectified completely.

"I think it would be best," Childermass said, "if you did not inform Mr Honeyfoot of a need to apologize, this time. Honestly, I very likely did not see any wrong in his actions, and Norrellites are so unused to apologies that they would hardly know what to do with them, and take them by and large like one would a gross offense." Childermass continued his note-taking. "Perhaps if you could-- with Mr Honeyfoot's assistance if you should so wish it-- locate Mr Vinculus for me? He has not asked to be fed or complained of his confinement for several hours; I am unsure as to whether he is still alive at all."

Mr Segundus did not look at all pleased by this suggestion, but was willing to acquiess if only it would distract Mr Honeyfoot-- Childermass assumed this was the case, as otherwise Mr Segundus' agreeance made no sense, at all, given his current grimace. "I will, thank you," He said, and then he put his hat back on and went to find Mr Honeyfoot, who was no doubt in his room, completely unaware of his most recent insult towards all Norrellites2.

Childermass settled down, poured a glass of port and set out a biscuit for himself. He coughed once, drank some of his port, and got back to his comparison of the the various transcriptions of the King's Letters. He was by and large left unmolested in this act of solemn study until Vinculus rolled out from the linen cabinet.

Childermass did not look up from his studies. "Good morning, Mr Vinculus. Or should I say, good afternoon, though that may be more a kindness upon you."

"You may say whatever you damn well please." Vinculus stood, and wiped some dust from his trousers, which Mr Childermass did not see the point in, as the action had much the effect of wiping the color from an orange. Vinculus then crossed the room and drank some of the port and ate some of the biscuit from Childermass' desk. And then, as if upon a secondary thought, he proceeded to drink the rest of the port and eat the rest of the biscuit. He then asked Childermass if he had any more to drink or to eat, and when Childermass did not answer, demanded Childermass procure these items for him. Mr Childermass continued to write and transcribe, and so Vinculus found himself quickly bored, and prone to pace, and then when pacing became borish, Vinculus asked, "Did you know I was in that closet all along, or did you truly think me dead?"

Without looking up from his studies, Childermass said, "I do not know how it is possible not to know of a man sleeping in one's own linen cabinet. More, I think, I am surprised you are awake at all after last night's incident3, or were awake previously to hear of my conversations with Mr Segundus at all."

"I am very resilient. I am not killed easily. I suppose you wanted Mr Segundus and Mr Honeyfoot out of the way." Vinculus shrugged, and sat down next to Childermass, which involved less sitting and more shuffling Mr Childermass half off his seat so that Vinculus could sit down at all. Vinculus then leaned forward to inspect Mr Childermass' work.

"You suppose right. I have some want of peace and quiet whilst I work, however hugely unfounded the desire is." Much to his own credit, Mr Childermass did not sneer.

"No use complaining about it, you'll get it all translated eventually. I'm the one who should be complaining. I'm the one who's stuck here." Vinculus leaned forward and placed one greasy finger upon a note of Childermass', causing the ink to smudge horribly and some of the paper to discolor. He said, "That cylindrical symbol does not mean 'energy', and it does not mean 'magical' or any thing you seem to think, at all."

Mr Childermass considered this. "Would you care at all to tell me what it does mean, Mr Vinculus?"

Vinculus was silent and still for a moment, which, Childermass thought, would have been an improvement if only it had happened at any other time in recent months. He then stood, rather abruptly, and nearly caused Childermass to fall from his chair. "There is a lady outside."

Much to his credit, Mr Childermass did not groan. "There are often ladies outside. She is named Mary Whittle, she is our maid, you may have some passing familiarity with her."

Vinculus ignored him, and wandered from the room. Childermass took this as an auspicious omen, and continued his work. He even managed to get some of it compled before a bellman came and informed him that there was a Mrs Strange at the door, and she was wanting to see him.

Mr Childermass said that he would see her shortly, and attempted to get some of the ink off of his fingers before thinking that of all people in England, north or south, to complain of one being ink-splattered, it would not be Arabella Strange4.

He saw her in the parlor. He looked rather crumpled from study and aggravation to his character, while Mrs Arabella Strange looked somewhat wind-swept, as if from travel, which, Childermass assumed, was indeed exactly the case.

"I suppose you are wondering why I am here." She said, "Only, I could not bare to take advantage of the Greysteel family's hospitality, and so I thought I should look into John-- Mr Strange's accounts and maybe take care of them until he returns, but it seems everything he owned disappeared along with him, and so I thought oh! I should go and ask his nearest confidant, but my brother is no longer on good terms with him, nor was he before his, ah, disappearance."

Childermass allowed the maid to pour the both of them some tea. "And so naturally, you thought of me?"

Mrs Strange shook her head, "No; I admit, Mr Childermass, I had very little idea of who you were before a few months ago." She seemed almost guilty. "I first thought of Mr Norrell, but it seems he is gone from this world also, until the curse is broken, of course. And then I asked around London, and many people could remember you being in Mr Norrell's employ, though few were aware of your name." She said, "And I admit was similarly the case with myself. Though eventually I did find a woman who knew your name," There seemed to be a blush rising on her cheeks, and Childermass could well guess at which woman Mrs Strange was referring to, though neither went further into the matter of this lady's identity, and so this pen will not either. "And I found you here, and so I must ask you if there is anything I can do, or if you know anything of Mr Strange's estate, if any of it remains, or if I can help it in any way." She finished.

Childermass thought for a moment, and then offered her some tea, and they sat in silence, drinking, while Mrs Strange regained her breath. She had been rehearsing that speech for a very long time, in her head, and was rather disappointed to find it had not at all sounded like it had in her head, instead coming out in a jumbled rush that belied how long she had thought on it 5.

Mrs Strange said, "You are probably wondering why I did not write a letter announcing my intentions, first."

Mr Childermass was not, in fact, wondering any such thing, but Mrs Strange explained it in any case, and Childermass did not have the heart (or the patience) to correct her. When she had finished, Mr Childermass put down his tea and said, rather abruptly, "If you would like to help Mr Strange's estate, I am afraid I cannot help you. He has nothing here that I know of."

To Mrs Arabella Strange's credit, her face did not fall, although it looked as it it wanted to.

"However," Mr Childermass continued, "If you would be willing to aid me in a matter that would be of the utmost importance to Mr Strange, were he here, I would be very happy to accept your offer of help."

"Mr Childermass, I know nothing of magic, if that is what you are referring to. I spoke with my husband often enough, when he was still in England, but not of, of magical theorem. It was not my place."

"Most of the people already in this house know little of magic at all; I hardly need another magician." Said Childermass with one of his ironic smiles, "I fear I already have too many, quite the reversal from only a few years ago. No, Mrs Strange, I ask if you would be interested in taking a job tending the house and watching the servants. It is no great thing, but it is all I can offer you."

Mrs Strange nodded slowly, and considered it. After some deliberation, she said, "If I may have a week to decide?"

"Of course. I trust you have accommodations? I could offer you a room, but at the same time, I can nearly assure you that a haggard vagabond will wander his way into it at some point before your choice is made."

Mrs Strange looked rather shocked.

"Should you decide to stay here, however, I shall enchant the room against Mr Vinculus." Mr Childermass added, "He means little harm to ladies such as yourself, being married." After a moment, Childermass added once more: "But do not give him any food, if you meet him; it will encourage him."

Mrs Strange, perhaps because she had been married to a magician, and even still was, looked less bothered by this than many ladies of her birth and caliber would have. Instead, she nodded and told Mr Childermass that she would think on his offer, and that he was very kind, and in return Childermass stiffly showed her to the door and made sure she was safely seen out of the house with proper escort and carriage, and that Vinculus had not somehow snuck himself into that carriage.

After checking with the cooks as to what would be had for dinner that night, Childermass had a cup of coffee and went back to his private rooms, sitting down once more and finally. He dipped his pen and began writing on what he supposed Vinculus' cylindrical symbol meant, if not magic.

There was a knock at the door.

Childermass waved the footman in: "Mr Childermass? Misters Honeyfoot and Segundus have found Mr Vinculus for you."

\---  
1 \- Since the return of English magic, it should be noted that popular phrases making reference to John Uskglass have suffered a large-scale re-emergence not only in the North (where it can be argued as to whether the King ever truly left the minds of good the Northern peoples at all) but likewise in some Southern parts of England. It should likewise be noted that these linguistic tics, both new and old, are horribly unfashionable in London. None of this much mattered much at all to Mr Childermass.  
2 \- Mr Honeyfoot had, once a discussion had come up over how one should best go about the translation of the King's Letters, made the horribly offensive suggestion that perhaps the Norrellites and the Strangites could work together in their transcription. Needless to say, this had offended Strangite and Norrellite alike. Of course, the Norrellite faction remained the more injured party, for, as they did not have a great deal of familiarity with Mr Honeyfoot (he being a Strangite and thus little more familiar to them than a suddenly-appeared fairy or someone else's dog), considered the offer a high measure of condescension to them. Did they go about as if they _needed_ help with a task such as this? Was he implying they were having difficulty with the translation thus far? How could a good English magician, a good Norrellite, take such insults to their character! It was a terrible thing to consider, a grievous wound upon them. Luckily, Segundus' quick intervention kept a scene from erupting, or someone challenging Mr Honeyfoot to a duel, or, far worse, Mr Honeyfoot being informed that the Norrellites had been offended by him.  
3 \- A chronicle of the event of which Mr Childermass is referring can be found in Mary Whittle's published diary, _An Account of the Events Under Which the King's Letters Where Translated_, pub. by Thomas Burnham, Bookseller, 1821.  
4 \- _A History of Misters Jonathan Strange And Gilbert Norrell_ by Susan Clark, pub. by John Murray, London, 1904.  
5 \- As matters such as cursed husbands, disappeared estates and stoic ex-servants are wont to.


End file.
